


Tea for Two

by Bow



Category: North and South - Elizabeth Gaskell, North and South - Elizabeth Gaskell | UK TV
Genre: F/M, Yuletide 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 14:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17143880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bow/pseuds/Bow
Summary: A moment alone after John and Margaret's marriage.





	Tea for Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [croissantkatie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/croissantkatie/gifts).



John glanced up in surprise as the door to his office eased open. With the mill still conspicuously silent, no hands and no foreman at hand to interrupt his labors, he had not expected to be disturbed.

“Margaret?” he said, with obvious pleasure.

“You’ve been working so hard,” she said, setting a small tea tray down on his desk. She brought her hand to the back of his head. “I wanted to bring you your tea. I hope I am not distracting you from something important.”

“Oh,” he replied, with that boyish smile that transformed his face. He put down his pen. “If it is a distraction, love, it does not follow that it must be unwelcome.”

He reached up for her, bringing her down to his lap with his arms warm around her.

Margaret closed her eyes. “When I woke this morning, you had already left,” she said, nuzzling against his neck.

He sighed, stroking along her arm with his thumb. “Do you think me unfeeling, leaving you by yourself so soon after we are wed? I had much rather be in my bed with my Margaret instead of sitting alone here with my figures until the sun goes down. And yet, I cannot indulge myself in this--every new day that the looms sit idle threatens the existence of Marlborough Mills, jeopardizes our very survival. I will not be reckless with your capital, with the livelihoods of others, to pursue my own pleasure. I will do everything in my power to set things right, even if I must tear myself unwillingly from your side.” He kissed her shoulder. “And I am sorry, love, that there could be no wedding journey just yet. I would have liked to give you--I will give you--what you deserve. I--”

“Hush,” she said. “I know you could not neglect your duty. I know you can never be easy, or come away from Milton, until the mill is running smoothly again. And I would not change you.”

He squeezed her hand. “Just know that I will do right by you.”

She squeezed back. “Of course I know; I could never doubt that.” Margaret sighed, leaned back further into him. “You are such a good man, John. You carry so many burdens on your shoulders, and you work so hard. I want to make your life comfortable; I’ve a notion that for all you’ve accomplished, your life has never been that.”

“Now that I know you care for me,” he said, “now that you are my wife, I have all the comfort I need.”

“You are kind, but far too undemanding. That cannot be sufficient! For one thing, you see I have neglected to pour out your tea. A shocking lapse!”

He thought of the first time that she had served tea to him, back when she was wholly a stranger to him, a haughty beauty entertaining her father’s new pupil for the sake of politeness, resenting his intrusion into her family’s life. He had watched her secretly that afternoon, bewitched by her white arms and her graceful movements. But now she was his wife, there was no reason to deny himself the pleasure of watching her, nor to disguise his desire for her. He watched her openly as one round hand curled around the handle of the teapot, the other wrapped around the cup, and she poured out the tea, absorbed for a moment in her task. She set the teapot down again.

“Margaret,” he whispered, “wait,” and she paused, looking at him in confusion. In his long fingers he took her thumb and little finger, pinching them together to serve as sugar-tongs. Pleased by the effect, he smiled broadly and did it a second time, though he knew that in doing so he had made the tea too sweet for his taste.

“Do you remember that first time,” he said, “when I came for tea at your father’s house at Crampton? I watched your father take your fingers in his and use them just so. How I wished that I might do the same, though I knew you wished me miles away.”

The thought of his secret longing for her, his loneliness, touched her heart so much she felt a pang. “Oh,” she said, “my sweet John. I am so glad we learnt to understand each other.”

She planted a kiss on his forehead, and he brought his hands to her hair to gently guide her lower, until she sat facing him on his lap, and her lips were on his.

“Your tea will get cold,” she whispered between kisses.

“It’s not the tea I want just now, lass,” he said, and for some few minutes he proved the truth of that statement.

At last he pulled himself away from her with a soft sigh. “I must get back to work, Margaret,” he said. “I must finish with the accounts if I’m to leave this place in time to eat dinner with you.”

“What kind of wife must you think me?” she said with affection. “Dinner shall of course be kept waiting until you are home, no matter the hour.”

He smiled. “So you see that I must apply myself now.”

“Then good-bye until this evening,” she said, turning to go.

He had managed to avoid disarranging her hair, but her lips--they were certainly quite pink just then, maybe even slightly swollen. _I did this,_ thought John, and he liked the sight of it. It spurred him to speak again.

“Tonight,” he said, and swallowed. 

She looked back at him. “Yes, John?”

“Bid Dixon leave your hair up.”

“Leave my hair up?” she repeated in confusion.

“Yes. When I come to you tonight, I want to take it down myself,” he said. “That is, if I may.”

“Oh,” she said, and blushed. “Yes, yes of course.”

He took her hands in hers once more. “Thank you for the tea.”

“John,” she said, and hesitated. She suddenly felt shy of him again. “Shall I--would you like it if I came by your office again tomorrow?” she asked, flushing.

“I should like it very much,” he said, beaming again.

She smiled in return. “Then I shall.”

He picked up the pen, but did not turn back to his figures in earnest until she had been out of his sight for some minutes, until his mind was clearer.

There were yet things he did not know about his new wife; for one, what a jumble her thoughts had become as she made her way back to the sitting room, how her mind swirled with the idea of how his fingers would feel in her hair.


End file.
